Invictus
by Inardescari
Summary: A single grain of sand can tip the scales: one cannot change one's fate, but the smallest difference in events might alter the path on which they walk. An AU retelling of the prequel trilogy had QuiGon lived. Primary Characters: Anakin, QuiGon, ObiWan.
1. Times Change

**

* * *

Invictus**

A collaborative effort between Fernénji and Shiñoraa Inardescari

**Chapter One: Tempora Mutantur**

**_Times Change_  
**

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the Master of my fate;

I am the captain of my soul.

- William Ernest Henley

* * *

_I want to be like Master Jinn, father. He's very kind, and wise, and powerful; he's a Jedi, like you said.  
_

_I haven't had the chance to speak to you since we left Tatooine. I was always in space, or hyperspace, and it's cold in both, and the stars are silent – they don't laugh, but they're very beautiful._

_You've never been wrong before – you've always told me little things, moments or hours or days or years before they'd happen, and they did, unless I wanted to change it myself. You know a lot, father, but this time I think you're wrong._

_You told me I would be a Jedi, and come back to free the slaves. _

_I met Master Jinn, and _he_ freed me (I told you he was kind)... but I don't think I will ever be a Jedi. _

_They said I was too old. _

_(Mom sometimes called me a little old man)_

_They said I was afraid._

_(Am I? It's so cold...)_

_Yeah... I don't think they'll change their minds, father. They won't let me be a Jedi._

_Not like _

_(Master Jinn)_

_him._

_Not like you said._

_Why don't you answer me, father?

* * *

_

Jedi did not love.

Jedi did not hate.

They _were_, however, allowed compassion and relief, and both emotions beat a thunderous rhythm against the walls of Qui-Gon's heart as he watched the sleeping nine-year-old.

Anakin's hair was still damp from the water shower he had experienced earlier that day; the young boy, native to the desert planet of Tatooine, had been almost scandalised at the mere thought of dirtying so much water simply to wash.

In the end, it had been the Jedi Master's current Padawan who, despite being fully dressed and fresh from the street festival and ceremonial celebrations of Naboo's triumph over the Trade Federation, had finally dunked the youngling's head under the spray of water. The younger boy's indignation, however, had ensured that a rather one-sided water fight had broken out, and Obi-Wan was now skulking about elsewhere, nursing his sore pride and waiting for his robes to dry.

Qui-Gon chuckled quietly in remembrance. Anakin Skywalker's brusque manner and childish excitement had far from endeared him to the traditional-minded ('_stuffy, really,_' Qui-Gon thought, though not without affection) Obi-Wan, who had long forsook the more playful nature he had in his youth. His sense of fun seemed to have regressed as the years went by, and it was plain to see that the now conservative Padawan didn't quite know how to deal with a spirit like Anakin's while still retaining his Jedi calm or dignity.

The Jedi Master reached out a hand, stroking the moisture-darkened hair from Anakin's eyes and allowing himself to sink into an almost meditative stillness as he contemplated the recent events.

He could have died at the unknown Sith's hand today were it not for his apprentice's fleet-footed dash to be at his side. For a moment, just after Obi-Wan had skidded to an undignified halt behind Qui-Gon, the elder Jedi had glimpsed an entire future within the space of several heartbeats.

There had been an overwhelming sense of foreboding and relief at once; darkness and light intertwined so closely that all Qui-Gon had been able to see was a smear of grey and hazy visions that flitted in and out of his consciousness, disallowing any true comprehension of them. The entire experience had been brief, though it left Qui-Gon breathless with a last image of fire and flame and a terrifying, black, insectile visage before the door to what-may-have-been slammed shut and the Sith Lord rushed forward.

"He's so quiet when he's sleeping; so different from when he is awake and aware." The tone soured almost imperceptibly, but Obi-Wan's disapproval was loud in Qui-Gon's ears. "You'd never think a scruffy little ruffian from the Outer Rim would be the Chosen One."

Qui-Gon stifled a sigh and stood carefully so that he did not disturb the sleeping boy. "Keep in mind, my overly conventional-minded Padawan –" here Obi-Wan barely withheld a snort – "that origin and caste do not make a difference to the Force, and the Force wills what the Force will."

"I'm sorry, Master," Obi-Wan apologised humbly, "I –"

"In any case,_ I_ am thankful he is comparatively silent when he sleeps," Qui-Gon added, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "_You_, I believe, tend to take on the characteristics of a Rancor when asleep: immovable, un_silenceable_..."

"With all respect, _Master_," the young man waved a finger at Qui-Gon, "I do _not _snore –"

Qui-Gon interrupted him with a laugh. "Of course not. You merely breathe extremely loudly through your nose; have you ever heard yourself?" At Obi-Wan's unflattering glare, the grey-haired Master Jedi folded his arms with a smirk on his face that was hardly befitting of his position. "My point exactly," he concluded.

The younger man was subdued for only a short while before he turned back to his Master, blue eyes calm again. Inwardly, Qui-Gon sighed – when he had first taken Obi-Wan as his apprentice, the two had often joked for hours at each other's expense. Now, however, Obi-Wan was even more stubborn than before, and almost irritatingly orthodox; without his sense of humour to balance him, Qui-Gon was again reminded just how... _obstinate _his apprentice could be.

Still, Anakin would be good for him, just as Obi-Wan's influence would help the former slave. The nine-year-old was disarmingly charismatic, and would no doubt break through Obi-Wan's shields with time. Thinking upon the Padawan's unusual prejudice against the boy in question, Qui-Gon turned a contemplative gaze on his protégé's profile. As if sensing his thoughts, or at the very least his inquisition, Obi-Wan looked up from surveying Anakin's sleeping form.

"He... concerns me a little, Master," Obi-Wan confided quietly. Qui-Gon blinked – while getting his apprentice to speak his mind in recent years had hardly been difficult, it was still unusual for Obi-Wan to express himself so suddenly. Anakin had to have struck a nerve in the staid Padawan. "It is not so much his previous station or his origin that is cause for worry than _him_. He is so full of fear, Master, and anger."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, suddenly disappointed. Had nothing of what he had spoken to the younger man truly registered in that stubborn mind? "I am already aware of the Council's opinions on Anakin Skywalker's faults. I trust in the Force that he was given into our care, and I will honour my promise on Tatooine to train him. He may be full of fear, but he is a boy, Obi-Wan. A now-motherless boy who has grown up with pain and hurt. If we ourselves, who have promised him the stars and disallow him even that, alienate him, then he will continue to grow in rejection and fear."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, but Qui-Gon stood to his full height, not quite desperate, but not too much less. This youngling had no defender, and if no one else would be his champion then Qui-Gon would! "You are ready for your trials," Qui-Gon stated. "You are skilled in combat, strategy and diplomacy. You contain an excellent understanding of the Force – as much understanding as I can teach you. You are ready for the trials, Obi-Wan, but you are not ready for reality."

"If I'm not ready, then why –"

"Because there is no time." Qui-Gon strode over to the open balcony doors and inhaled the moist evening air, envisioning a still mountain lake and calming as he reached the Force. "The reappearance of the Sith for the first time in a standard millennium is further cause for worry. Was it the Master or the Apprentice we vanquished? Why now?

"The discovery of the Chosen One – yes, Obi-Wan, _this boy_ – foretells great upheaval for the galaxy. We must be ready, and if the Code obstructs our ability to act in accordance to the threat we now face, then the Code..."

"Master, no!"

"Then the Code," Qui-Gon continued relentlessly, "is no longer sound."

Both Master and Padawan were silent in a moment of almost-disbelief and awe. Qui-Gon had spoken something that was almost blasphemy to the Jedi Order, and he could feel Obi-Wan's need for him to 'come back to his senses', to take it back.

"It is truth as I see it," Qui-Gon said gently. He turned from the distant mountains to look at his Padawan. "To be unyielding makes no sense in a world of change, my wise-beyond-his-years Padawan, and mark me, but it _is_ changing."

"Master," Obi-Wan murmured.

"If you will not trust in me," Qui-Gon said softly, "then trust in the Force."

Obi-Wan bowed his head, and both stood in contemplative silence for a long time afterwards with Qui-Gon's words hanging ominous in the air about them.

And Anakin Skywalker shifted in his sleep, dreaming of the stars.

* * *

The Shadow raged. 

The defeat of its apprentice was no small loss – much time and effort had gone into Maul's creation, and having not seen the Zabrak's death, its plans had been set back a great deal. Upon further reflection, however, it became more disappointed at having invested so much in Maul's training at all – his over-eager attitude had been his death, and the death, one without victory of any kind – Maul had failed to rid the galaxy of even a pesky Padawan learner.

Its fury subsided, the Shadow sank into a forced calm, though it bared its teeth in hatred. No matter. There would be another apprentice, and this situation was more salvageable than it had first appeared; it could still be turned to the Shadow's advantage.

It had been an unfortunate series of events that had allowed the young Queen Amidala to prevail when victory had seemed imminent; she had proved to be more of an irritation than the Shadow had originally foreseen, and if so much an annoyance now, when she had barely come into her own, age and experience could sharpen her eyesight and make keen the blade of perception.

But Amidala was still young, no matter how political-minded she had been trained to be, and the Jedi still thought narrow thoughts. Prudence demanded that he plant the right seeds – in Fear, of course – where they may thrive on misunderstanding...

The young Nabooan queen would never fall into shadow, but she could be the oblivious nerfherdess that led her flock to slaughter.

Its mood fully restored, the Shadow shifted gleefully, bloodshot yellow eyes blinking rapidly as it again painted the future as it saw it.

The Sith would ingratiate themselves into the darkest nightmares of every being, and Shadow would cloud every sight, even that of the foolish Jedi. They would pay for their underestimation of the true side of the Force.

It was only a matter of time.

* * *

Qui-Gon exited the 'fresher, towelling a complaining Anakin's hair dry. 

"I already had a shower yesterday!" the boy was protesting. "And why doesn't Obi-Wan have to take as many as I do?"

"Ani," Qui-Gon sighed.

"It's true! _He_ had one after the celebration, and _I_ had one _before_ it and _after _it and _now_!"

"This isn't Tatooine," Obi-Wan's tone was weary as he came into view. "Naboo's people avoid the tendency to go about smelling like banthas."

Qui-Gon gave up on Anakin's hair and eyed his Padawan with curiosity, noting the half-crushed datapad in Obi-Wan's hand. "Does something trouble you, my young-and-acid-tongued apprentice?"

"Must you address me that way?" Obi-Wan grumbled.

"If these old eyes do not deceive me, then your Padawan braid has not yet been cut, and until then, I shall address you in any manner I like." Qui-Gon's teasing was interrupted by an insistent tugging on his sleeve. "Yes, Ani?"

"How old are you, Master Jinn?"

Obi-Wan's apathetic manner evaporated immediately as he bestowed a rare smirk on the speechless Jedi Master. "How old _does _he look, Anakin?"

Anakin tilted his head in a contemplative manner, ignoring the impatient tapping of Qui-Gon's boot against carpet. "You know, you're not _that_ much older than Mom!" he finally concluded, sounding almost surprised.

"And just how much is 'that'?" Qui-Gon murmured, pretending to be affronted.

"I don't know," the nine-year-old considered the matter for only a few moments further before dismissing it in favour of tinkering with several transparisteel shards, though he looked up as a thought struck him. "What about you, Obi-Wan?"

Before Obi-Wan could reply, Qui-Gon answered the boy with a wink. "Why, he's positively _ancient_, Ani – couldn't you tell?"

Anakin was spared the need to answer when Obi-Wan tossed the datapad at his Master; his previous gloomy mood reasserted itself as he sank onto one of the many overstuffed cushions littering the ground. "Eirtaé left this while you were teaching Anakin the finer points of hygiene, Master."

"Acid-tongue indeed," Qui-Gon observed drily. "A dinner with the Queen? Whatever for?"

Anakin looked up from transparisteel parts he had been attempting to glue together. "Padmé's going to be there?"

"_Her Majesty_ was the one to extend the invitation, after all," Obi-Wan answered, stressing Amidala's title, "It's to be a private affair, if I understand correctly, but Eirtaé insisted that it was Her Majesty's desire to thank us in a more intimate setting," Obi-Wan sighed, turning his head into another cushion so that his next words came out muffled. "I so do dread these functions, Master."

"Nevertheless," Qui-Gon's tone brooked no argument, "you _are_ attending!"

"What about me, Master Jinn? Do I get to go too?" As if struck by an idea, he leapt to his feet and offered his head for the Jedi Master's approval. "See, I'm clean! Smell! I even washed behind my ears!"

"Unfortunately," Obi-Wan said after a moment of amused silence in which both men attempted to stifle their mirth, "that invitation extends to you also."

If he hadn't been nearly bowled over by Anakin's impulsive hug, he might have laughed with Qui-Gon. As it was, however, he merely smiled slightly at the top of the blond head.

* * *

Daylight had only just begun to fade, and Anakin slowed immediately upon passing through the tall balcony doors. Awed by the veils of pink and purple shadows playing delicately on the faint wisps of cloud, he couldn't help but marvel once more at the very concept of so much water in the atmosphere that it could freeze into ice in the air. It must come from having only one sun, he decided, and resolved to ask Master Jinn about it later. Master Jinn knew everything. In the meanwhile, he forced his legs to move forward when he realised Obi-Wan had been trying to nudge him further onto the terrace for the last few minutes. 

As they moved forward to take their seats at the round, intimately-sized dining table, his eyes lit up as he spotted Padmé, and he opened his mouth to hail her before closing it hastily. Obi-Wan was looking at him again. Still, he returned her welcoming smile and sat himself stubbornly in the seat to her right. The Padawan's exasperation was almost palpable, and he in turn took the remaining seat by Anakin's side.

'_He wants to keep an eye on me,_' Anakin thought sourly; he had hoped to sit by Master Jinn. He cheered up considerably, however, as he glanced at Padmé, who was giving a companionable nod to Qui-Gon. '_At least I got to sit with her._'

'_She isn't wearing one of those heavy dresses_,' he noted, '_or any of that white stuff on her face, and her hair looks normal._' She looked younger and prettier, and Anakin told her so, ignoring Qui-Gon's hurriedly-suppressed smile and Obi-Wan's scowl. "You look nice – almost as beautiful as Mom," he added graciously.

"And that, my friends," an amused, reedy baritone said, "is the highest compliment one can receive from a youngling." Chancellor Palpatine nodded to his escort and they positioned themselves on either side of the terrace entrance. "Your Majesty," he greeted.

"Chancellor Palpatine," Padmé nodded, a smile suffusing her young features as she gestured to the chair on her left. "Please have a seat, and let us dispense with the formalities as this is to be a casual affair. I am most pleased that you accepted my invitation."

"Not nearly so much as I was to receive it," the Chancellor returned.

Anakin tuned out of their conversation, rolling his eyes in disgust. Did all grown-ups talk like that? '_No,_' he decided, '_Master Jinn knows everything and he doesn't waste his breath using all those big words._'

As one of the handmaidens – Sabé, the boy remembered – set a bowl of what appeared to be some kind of meat stew before him, Anakin ignored his conversing companions in favour of deciding which of the five spoons he was to use to eat it with.

* * *

Obi-Wan glanced over at Anakin only to find the boy dozing gently against the young Queen's arm. Suppressing a groan of mortification, Obi-Wan made as if to shake him awake, but Amidala shook her head at him. She stroked the sleeping nine-year-old's hair gently, smiling down at the tousled head. "Let him sleep; the last few days must have worn him out," the girl said softly to the Padawan. "Has he enjoyed his stay on Naboo?" 

Obi-Wan exchanged amused looks with Qui-Gon, who had excused himself from his conversation with the Chancellor to listen. "He finds it quite enchanting, I'm sure," the younger replied, "though his complaints about hydroshowers can be quite frustrating. He did not get a chance to experience one on Coruscant when we had stopped by briefly, let alone on Tatooine, and so is unused to them."

"Of course," Amidala agreed. She looked as if she might say more, but sighed instead, turning to Qui-Gon. "I was hoping I might give this to him tonight, after we dined, but I am quite loath to disturb his sleep," she said, more to herself than her listeners. "Perhaps you might present it to him in my stead, Master Jedi?"

Qui-Gon accepted the heavy medallion and weighed it gently in his hands even as he examined the engraved avian upon its dull surface. "What manner of creature would this be, Your Majesty?" Obi-Wan inquired as his curiosity got the better of him and he leaned over his Master's shoulder to see it properly.

"It is a spirit of myth," Amidala responded, and smiled slightly. "It symbolises rebirth and ever-revival of the eternal light."

The Chancellor reached out and touched the bronze-gold metal in surprised recognition. "Your personal crest, Majesty," he said with some surprise. "The Son of Suns!"

Qui-Gon's hand jerked a little at that, and Amidala found herself returning his intense stare with a little confusion. She looked away first, bowing her head in gentle acknowledgement of the Chancellor's observation, brushing her fingers against the sleeping boy's head. "Yes," she said uncomfortably, "the Son of Suns. It is an old legend I quite enjoy, and its avatar is what I serve." Amidala sat very still as Obi-Wan lifted Anakin from her side, and then she stood with a rustle of skirts, Sabé and Cordé flanking her as she did.

"Again," said she, "the Jedi and Anakin Skywalker have my unending gratitude." She hesitated almost imperceptibly before nodding again. "May the Force be with you," Queen Amidala said softly, and took her leave.

* * *

Obi-Wan drew the covers up to the boy's chin and stood back, for some reason unable to leave his side. "He'll be warm, at least," the Padawan said softly to his Master, who was meditating on the bunk opposite. "I've seen him shiver even on Naboo."

"That will be because of his desert origin," Qui-Gon answered without opening his eyes. "He will be uncomfortable in almost every climate and region he goes."

"He'll adjust eventually," Obi-Wan muttered, and settled himself next to Qui-Gon, closing his eyes and attempting to sink into meditation. Several minutes later, he stirred and opened them, frustrated.

"Is something the matter?" Qui-Gon asked dryly, eyes still shut, "you are unusually restless."

"And _your _ruminations are disrupted by my 'restless' behaviour?" Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, picking idly at the thick space-blankets piled on the bunk's pillow.

Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open as he snorted, coming out of the meditative trance. "That will be the day," was all he said, but his eyes were laughing. "What is troubling you?"

The younger man shrugged slightly, blue gaze drifting absently towards Anakin's slumbering form. "The Son of Suns," Obi-Wan answered. The medallion was barely visible, its dull lustre glinting from the raw leather thong about Anakin's neck, but both Jedi knew what they would see were they to hold it in their hands again – in the background, behind even the exquisite detail of flame and incandescent feathers, there was etched an intricate, winding design that was commonly recognised as the Nabooan symbol for eternity. A well-recognised rune associated with faith surmounted a short inscription in simple, spidery script: _May dreams aid in flight_.

"It is a pity we did not have the time to ask further of the legend," Qui-Gon mused, "but I am sure the archives will be kind to us... perhaps Master Yoda himself will know of it."

"Perhaps," Obi-Wan agreed, "but it may not be prudent to probe too deeply into this."

Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, and Obi-Wan thought he might have lapsed back into meditation. He was about to follow his Master's lead when the older Jedi's voice broke through his consciousness. "Your concern has merit; the more we learn, the more abusing expectation we heap upon the child... but ignorance of such prophecy, no matter how wise, is unrealistic."

"Children are cruel," Obi-Wan murmured, "and Anakin will be tested sorely, I think. Even the Knights and the elder Padawans, never mind the younger Initiates, will be sceptical of his admission into the Temple and Order no matter what excuse, reason or justification we offer them."

Qui-Gon shot him a sidelong glance that seemed at once amused and satisfied. "Then you think Anakin may be more than a mere 'pathetic life form'?"

Obi-Wan knitted his brows, frowning faintly. "I beg your pardon," he said, sounding anything but.

"Thus far you have implied, and several times, might I add, that the Council may yet permit Ani to stay."

The padawan slouched, just a little. "My opinion is not the one that matters –"

"On the contrary," Qui-Gon interrupted gently, "it matters." The Jedi Master closed his eyes and sighed. "It matters very much.

As he watched his master leave the cabin, Obi-Wan found he had nothing to say. Instead, he found his eyes straying to the fire-bird, and its bearer, the Son of Suns.

* * *

"Your Majesty!" Padmé suppressed the sigh but when she turned around, her young face was smooth and void of visible emotion. "Chancellor," she acknowledged quietly, keenly mindful of the Palace's ears. "Will you be staying for much longer?" 

Palpatine shook his head in gentle denial. "The demands of the Senate require my return, I'm afraid. I must leave within the hour – perhaps you will walk with me?"

The young queen granted the Chancellor a tired smile and fell into step with him as they made their way down the grand stairway toward the hanger where Palpatine's ship was waiting.

"When news of Naboo's defiance and victory reached Coruscant's ears, I could not help but breathe a sigh of relief," Palpatine began, his tone and eyes regretful as he spoke. "I only wish I been able to offer more assistance; it is most fortunate you returned when you did."

Padmé smiled again, touched by her compatriot's concern. "Thank you, Chancellor. I am sure you did your best; the Senate is hardly known for quick, decisive action, after all. Nevertheless, we do owe much to the bravery and fortitude of the Jedi."

Palpatine's sigh echoed through the high-ceilinged hallway, and his eyes remained sad. "Yes, Master Jinn and his apprentice have indeed served you well; you are safe, and so are our people. I only hope the Jedi Council will, in the future, sanction the heroic deeds of other such Jedi on behalf of the citizens of the Republic."

The Queen faltered momentarily, but was able to keep the shock and confusion from registering on her face, though her hands clenched and unclenched slowly beneath the long sleeves of her ceremonial gown. "Why shouldn't they? That is, after all, their mandate, is it not?"

"Indeed, your Majesty. However, just what that mandate does or does not include depends wholly on the Senate. Though they are represented by a delegation of their choosing, the Jedi Council take neither one side nor the other."

"But surely..." They had stopped walking – Padmé could hear an unusually undisciplined whisper among her handmaidens. Normally she would turn around to rebuke them with a warning gaze, or a soft-voiced admonishment, but the Chancellor had taken her hand, his pale, grey-blue eyes gazing into her dark ones.

"Your majesty," he murmured sympathetically, "I don't wish to upset you nor do I want to in any way demean what our gallant heroes have done. I only wish to caution you. Reform of the Senate will take time, I'm afraid. I only hope that it does not take so long that another tragedy will be allowed to occur either here or on any other planet."

Padmé was silent as they resumed their walk, assimilating the words the Chancellor had just spoken. Only a short time ago, it was inconceivable that an invasion of Naboo could happen. They were a peaceful people who did their best to deal fair and justly with all other worlds in the galaxy. Though she wanted to believe that such a thing could never again occur, and most certainly not on Naboo, reality was a harsh master. She would learn her lesson and learn it well.

The customary words of farewell and faraway were spoken, but Padmé's mind was whirring too loudly for her to hear the Chancellor's reply to her well wishing.

As far as the Jedi were concerned, her knowledge of their Order was rudimentary at best. They were the peacekeeping force in the galaxy, most often sent as ambassadors or emissaries of the Senate to settle trade disputes, treaties, and other such matters that could easily become a source of conflict. In this case, they had done exactly that.

She watched Palpatine as he ascend the ramp, and he paused briefly to meet her slightly unsteady gaze. Though a good several metres separated them, he nodded absently to himself, seeming to have found whatever he had searched. Padmé watched the glow of ignition and allowed her handmaidens to nudge her absent form away from the landing platform.

She would hope for the reforms that the Senate so desperately needed. Reconstruction had begun in Theed and she would devote her full attention to providing everything that her people needed. As for the Jedi... only time would tell.

Perhaps it was merely the wind, but Padmé thought she could hear distant laughter. She could not help but shudder, a little.

"Come," said she, and glided onto a terrace-path, holding her skirts as she descended the stairs to the gardens. Her handmaidens followed in silent obedience, and the tree-shadows played eerily about their faces.

* * *

**A/N: Feedback is appreciated. Thanks for reading!**

* * *


	2. On the Threshold

* * *

**Invictus **

A collaborative effort between Fernénji and Shiñoraa Inardescari

**Chapter Two**

**In Limine**

_**On the Threshold**_

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the Master of my fate;

I am the captain of my soul.

-William Ernest Henley

* * *

By all accounts, the temple was definitely as modern and cosmopolitan a structure as any to be found on Coruscant in terms of its amenities. It stood in stark contrast to the seemingly endless durasteel forms of the residential and commercial towers surrounding the Senate District. With its impressive turrets and towering size, it was no less impressive than the dome-shaped building that housed the Galactic Senate. 

Anakin was glad that the Jedi Temple did not appear to be as lavish as the Senatorial offices or the guest suite the royal convoy of Naboo had occupied. Simple origins were not as easy to shake off as some people thought, and the baroque way the Naboo had lived, though pleasant, was nevertheless constricting in many ways.

As the trio of humans made their way further into the heart of the Temple, silence gave way to vague, distant chimes and a steady, comforting hum. Anakin blinked and paused quickly, backtracking his steps as a differently pitched drone hummed into existence. Looking to see that Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were about to round a corner, Anakin half-ran towards the pair of durasteel doors, eyes darting back to the two Jedi's retreating backs.

'_Just one look,_' he promised himself, and pushed them open.

The Jedi was old – almost as old as Jira, even – but there was a bizarrely compelling vitality about him. Anakin didn't notice that he had stopped walking; he continued to watch the silver-haired human flow from one lightsabre kata to the next, his orange ('_Orange?_' Anakin wondered briefly) blade spinning as its wielder executed a graceful turn. Anakin had witnessed Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan spar before, both Master and Padawan whirling, leaping, spinning so that their blue and green blades were almost blurs to Anakin's sight. That had been awing in a more... well, _flashy_ manner.

This man, however, did not sweep or slash about so much as thrust and flick and make almost delicate, precise cuts. Anakin could see how this particular warrior might outlast either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan, or even _both_, the way he conserved his strength.

"Ani?"

"Sir," the addressed murmured automatically. "Master Jinn," he corrected himself, looking up at Qui-Gon. "You can – you and Obi-Wan can fight like that too, right?"

Qui-Gon smiled, looking over his shoulder at a bored-looking Obi-Wan, who was standing further down the hall. "We do tolerably well, wouldn't you say, Padawan Kenobi?"

"Oh, I suppose, Master Jinn," Obi-Wan answered mock-carelessly, crossing over to them. He addressed his next words to the silver-haired Jedi, who had ceased his practice to listen to the duo's banter. "Though I do believe Master Dooku would have something to say about our ineptitude should our skills ever falter."

"Your skills should hardly leave much to be desired, considering the two of you have managed to rid us of a Sith Lord," the stranger commented, and his dark eyes rested a moment on a slightly confused Anakin before turning to Qui-Gon. "It is good to see you safe, both of you," he added, looking at Obi-Wan, who coloured a little at the attention.

"It is good to see you also, Master Dooku," Qui-Gon replied warmly, a smile touching his mouth. "I see news travels fast," he observed.

"Jedi are the only sentient beings that can spread gossip faster than the holonet vultures can report," Dooku said dryly.

"And just how much do they know?" Qui-Gon inquired, suddenly wary as he placed a hand on his apprentice's shoulder.

Dooku chuckled darkly. "No more than they should – knowledge of Padawan Kenobi's actions against the Sith has been made known to the Masters in the temple, but no further. You need not worry about tongues wagging more than they should be..."

"'Than they should be?'" Obi-Wan echoed, somewhat aghast.

"I do believe there have been some rather... _wild_ rumours." Dooku smiled pleasantly, moving back into the centre of the training room and reigniting his lightsabre. "Perhaps you will join me for dinner, after all your... business with the Council has been resolved." The Jedi Master cast Anakin another unreadable look before his sun-hued lightsabre thrummed through the air again.

It was an obvious dismissal, and Anakin looked somewhat confusedly at Qui-Gon. Who was this haughty man who teased Obi-Wan and dismissed the three of them in one breath? The nine-year-old did not take his gaze off the now-shut durasteel doors until he and his companions had turned the corner.

"Master Dooku can be rather abrupt," Qui-Gon explained fondly, and Anakin realised that the elder Jedi had been talking to him. "He, unlike most of the Jedi who have come through this Temple, knows his heritage; he is from Serenno, and his parents left him the aristocratic title of 'Count'."

Anakin wasn't quite sure what a 'Count' was, but it sounded important, so he kept his peace. Besides, if Master Jinn allowed Master Dooku to push him around because of it, then it almost certainly was.

"Master Qui-Gon was Master Dooku's old Padawan," Obi-Wan said quietly, nudging Anakin. When the boy looked up at the young Jedi, Obi-Wan let out an uncharacteristic smirk. "Be mindful of your thoughts, Anakin Skywalker," he chided. "Jedi do not let themselves get 'pushed around' without good reason, and hereditary titles are hardly such an example."

Anakin flushed. '_Being here seems to agree with him,_' he thought, '_I haven't seen him smile so many times since I saw him on Padmé's ship. He was like Watto, but even Watto smiled when he saw a lot of money._'

"If you would stop broadcasting your thoughts so strongly," Qui-Gon advised, "perhaps you will reverse the attractive shade of rouge my Padawan has just turned."

Chagrined and a little embarrassed, Anakin trailed after the chuckling duo.

* * *

Qui-Gon's quarters were simple and practical, much as the home Anakin had shared with his mother on Tatooine had been, though it lacked the level of 'hearth and home' that Shmi had instilled in their own dwelling.

There were two sparsely-decorated bedrooms and a spacious common room possessing a food preparation centre to the right and a pair of uncomfortable-looking, steel-framed chairs arranged neatly about a glass-topped dining table. At the far end of the room, Anakin recognised an internal communication unit and another set of chairs, these ones looking a little more accommodating than the previous ones, and a rather ugly couch.

"I'm afraid you will have to make do with a pallet on the floor for now, Ani, unless you'd like to take the settee?"

Anakin eyed the tartan affair with a dubious expression as the two Jedi hid smiles. "I'd rather have the floor, Master Jinn," the youngling murmured.

"I deny all accusations that I should have such terrible taste as to have selected that particular piece, Ani," Qui-Gon gestured grandly, prompting a smile from the youngling, "it was there when I moved in."

Obi-Wan's snort could be heard from his room, where he had deposited his own bag of travel gear. "It isn't _that_ bad," he offered lamely as he re-entered the common room.

In reply, Anakin's stomach rumbled loudly, and he looked sheepishly up at Qui-Gon's shrewd stare.

"Obi-Wan, I have a few things to do; perhaps you can concoct something palatable for breakfast? It seems I am not the only one who is hungry."

"Can I come?" Anakin asked hopefully. Qui-Gon paused, his hand already keying in the main door's opening sequence.

"Not now," the Jedi Master answered. "Perhaps you can help Obi-Wan with the food. I won't be too long."

The Padawan's mouth was still open in protest when his Master left.

Obi-Wan sighed and stared distrustfully at a bemused Anakin. "Tell me," he said as he waited for the stove to warm, "have you ever cooked before?"

The youngling smiled disarmingly. "How hard can it be?" He asked rhetorically, pressing a random button and starting as several sharp utensils shot upwards with a muted hiss, narrowly missing his hand. "Oops."

"Anakin –"

"No, no, I promise I won't touch anything else... hey, Mom never had this!"

"_Anakin_ – wait, _no_!"

Despite Obi-Wan's best efforts, the explosive 'BOOM!' that echoed throughout the entire left residential wing of the Temple shook the quarters of every Jedi housed within twenty-three floors of Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi's apartment.

* * *

The heat of rush-hour traffic had hit the byways of Coruscant. A steady stream of speeders and other various short-range transport vehicles almost directly outside the large transparisteel windows produced an inconsistent flicker of shadow that played across Mace Windu's living quarters. 

"Our friendship will not alter the Council's decision," Windu said quietly, steepling his fingers. "Thank you," he added, accepting the steaming cup of tea Qui-Gon had just poured.

"I understand," Qui-Gon said mildly. "Your position as a Council Elder disallows you to take sides merely because an acquaintance wills it so... and that includes no bribes." He looked over from stirring nerf milk into his own cup. "Sugar?"

"Three cubes, please," Windu grinned, white teeth flashing in his dark face. "And I'm glad you understand."

"I don't really; I despise sweetened tea. Perhaps it is from the inordinate amount of sucrose a day you consume that you take your energy."

Windu laughed softly, blowing on his tea and tasting it gingerly before shooting Qui-Gon a mock-surreptitious look and stealing another two cubes from the sugar bowl, plunking it in the hot drink and stirring busily. Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows mock-knowingly as if to say 'see?' and settled further back into his armchair to regard the younger Jedi Master.

The dark-skinned human set his own cup aside, resuming his trademark 'thinking' pose; fingers steepled, gaze intense, brow faintly furrowed. "I should have expected your visit," Mace said thoughtfully, "especially considering as how the entire Council has been mired in discussion since your return to Naboo."

"Has the Council's deliberation involved the Sith Lord?" Qui-Gon asked, taking a sip of tea.

"As a matter of fact, it has," his friend replied. "We have come to the conclusion that whether the Sith was the Master or the Apprentice, it would still spell Darkness for the Force; there are always two. If he still lives Master would train another follower, and if it is the Apprentice who has survived, then he would do the same.

"When one takes into consideration that his appearance is in direct conjunction to that of the Sith, the Chosen One's emergence is cause for worry – perhaps it is the Time now, or soon," Windu mused quietly.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak – to argue, really, perhaps even say _I told you so_, but so far they had followed the usual script that dictated most of their encounters. Their friendship was one of routine and normalcy – sometimes they would meet and say virtually nothing, the tea and the idle pleasantries holding no ulterior significance. Most of the time, however, more things remained unsaid than spoken.

He would not deviate from the agenda this time, Qui-Gon decided – they had already wandered far from their usual path. He was surprised when Mace was the one to step further from their usual path.

"The Force speaks to us in different ways, Qui-Gon," Windu offered, "and I would be a fool to deny feeling something of what troubles you now." The younger Jedi shook his head, his dark eyes troubled. "I just don't know what to make of it."

Qui-Gon turned to look at his companion, waiting patiently for him to continue. Mace Windu had the rare gift of observing shatterpoints; that is, he possessed the ability to see how living sentients fit together in the eye of the Force. From what the other Jedi understood of this talent, shatterpoints resembled fault lines that ran deep into the hearts of people and situations.

Windu gestured languidly with his hands, his gaze somewhat distant. "Everything leads from order to chaos, every soul entangled in darkness, though not _of_ it – the fate-lines' paths are so haphazard that it is near impossible to determine each one's significance. I have never seen chaos – or potential chaos – of this magnitude before.

"As for the Skywalker youngling, I do not doubt your guess; the very elements of darkness and light bend and refract about him. He could be none other than the Chosen one, but there are those who have grave reservations in allowing his entrance into this order."

"They might very well be right to do so – Anakin will require delicate handling, but what must be remembered _by all of us_ is that he is not a tool; he is a person. Being raised outside our Order, he will not be able to be trained to fit a mould he will never love. You, and I were raised to be Jedi from the beginning, and to love our life as it is..." Qui-Gon trailed off and sighed again. "Anakin has his faults, Master, but he is not beyond hope."

"Perhaps not," Windu said non-committally. "In any case, I am bound to silence until the Council decides as a whole when to reveal his fate." In response to Qui-Gon's resigned droop, Mace offered him a smile and the empty pot. His spirits rising slightly as he watched his friend stir yet another cube of sugar into his half-empty cup, Qui-Gon withdrew a small pouch from his belt and sprinkled more tea leaves into the kettle before setting it to boil. There was no point in worrying his head off about it now, Qui-Gon reasoned with himself. What would come, would come. In the meantime, leaving his friend with a little gesture of goodwill – the extra pot of tea, that is – wouldn't hurt either party.

"Where did you get this?" Windu inquired curiously, "I don't believe I have ever experienced such a flavour..."

"It's Nabooan," Qui-Gon answered, offering the little bag and its contents for inspection. "It's extremely strong, so a small pinch suffices for a large pot."

"Extremely expensive too, I'll wager," Mace shot Qui-Gon a reproving look. "Have you been squandering our Temple's resources on comforts like this?"

Making a large show of retrieving the bag and taking his leave of the laughing Windu, Qui-Gon pretended not to hear.

* * *

Anakin Skywalker was bored. 

He'd done his best to alleviate boredom through labour, choosing the most charred area of wall and scrubbing busily until only a few lingering remnants of darkened showed, before allowing the cleaning 'droids to take care of the rest. He'd even attempted to repair the thermal unit – unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do when the main circuitry systems had been melted beyond recognition. Who knew cooking could be so dangerous? he reflected ruefully.

Master Jinn, in a tone that brooked no argument, had commanded Anakin to stay within his quarters. '_That must've been hours ago_!'

The boy looked hopefully at the doors as if the Jedi in question would appear through mere force of desire. When the hallway outside remained silent, Anakin threw up his hands in disgust as he looked about for something else to do. He _could_ take apart one of the 'droids and rebuild it again – his tools were in his pack... but he didn't think he'd impress Master Jinn if he went about taking everything apart and putting them together again – especially if he messed up somehow.

Anakin sat limply in the chair, not responding when more 'droids came in to install another thermal unit. He'd already tried talking to them, and they responded either in monosyllabic answers or not at all. In the end, he gave up on distracting himself in conversation with the unresponsive robots. He found he was beginning to miss See Threepio more and more.

It was with faint regret that Anakin contemplated one of his more significant mechanical accomplishments – besides the racing pod, of course. Threepio could always be counted on to fill any silence with aimless chatter. Anakin had wired him that way, of course – he found it distinctly amusing, and had stuffed the protocol 'droid's memory with all the chips on useless knowledge he could find.

Shifting again, the boy chewed on the inside of his lip. Master Jinn, Obi-Wan and he were supposed to go to Master Dooku's quarters for supper. Though Anakin wasn't quite sure just when the Jedi at their last meal of the day, surely there would be enough time to explore his surroundings a bit?

And, just maybe, if he took one of those wasteful water showers, Master Jinn wouldn't be quite so upset with him if he found out Anakin'd disobeyed an outright order.

Well... the last time he'd kept a promise, he'd flown right into the middle of a space battle. Perhaps his luck would be better this time. Having convinced himself enough to go through with his disobedience, Anakin scooped up his pack and made his way to the 'fresher.

* * *

The Jedi Archives were the heart of all Galactic Knowledge, containing twenty-one millennia of Jedi Wisdom, and Jocasta Nu was Master. 

Hand-slapper, thorn-tongued, Calamari fish-wife... she had been named all those and more by the louder visitors, the disruptive visitors, the overly curious visitors – like the one she was now swooping down upon – who entered her vast library.

Dooku watched in vague amusement as the bright-eyed youngling touched one of the busts of the Lost Nineteen, obviously impressed by the lifelike rendition. Jocasta Nu, however, was not so taken by the inquisitive boy leaving fingermarks on Chon Actrion's ear. He was crouched on the pedestal and using the besalisk's crest to support himself as he leaned forward in order to read the name plaque properly, though how he was about to do it upside-down, Dooku did not know.

"Might I help you with something, young one?" the Master of the Jedi Archives inquired dryly, gliding serenely to the youngling's side. Dooku felt his own curiosity stir as he suddenly recognised the boy as the one keeping Qui-Gon and Padawan Kenobi's company just that morning.

"I'm fine, thanks," the youngling refused, obliviously examining the bronze besalisk Master's frozen features with obvious fascination. Dooku held in a laugh as the flames of Sullust gleamed in Jocasta Nu's eyes. Perhaps it was time he intervened – it would not do to have his old Padawan not talk to him merely because he had allowed the Temple's firebrand of a librarian disembowel the overly curious youngling.

Striding forward quickly, Dooku hailed them, careful not to shout. "There you are!" he said, his mind thinking up a suitable lie, "My having left the room does not mean you are excused from cleaning the mess you made there." Dooku, his back to a startled Jocasta, sent the confused youngling a surreptitious wink. The sudden, relieved smile on the boy's face sent an unexpected jolt of gratification through the older Jedi, and Dooku signalled that the youngling come down as he turned again to deal with Jocasta.

"I hope he has not caused you too much trouble, Master; I will deal with him shortly," he turned back to the boy, giving him a gentle push. "Come along, now."

The boy didn't need a second nudge from Dooku to break into a half-trot, and Jocasta sniffed disparagingly before disappearing into another section of the archive to harass a pair of giggling Padawans. Dooku shook his head, his amusement growing, and lengthened his stride so that he might catch up with the excited miscreant.

Any scolding he might have formed in his head was immediately disintegrated when the youngling smiled enthusiastically at him. "She's some krayt dragon," he said cheerfully, "Got eyes like one, too!"

Dooku found himself more and more entertained by this odd youngling – the boy's Masters must not have squashed the humour and excitement from him. "And I suppose you've seen one up close?" the silver-haired Jedi Master inquired dryly, deciding to humour him for now.

"'Course I have. They're pretty common, like to nest near settlements. Not like rancors; you'd have to go pretty far into caves to find _them_..."

'_Settlements?_' Dooku wondered incredulously. '_Common_?' "There aren't many settlements on the City Planet," he reminded the boy. '_Lesson One,_' the Jedi thought, hiding a smile, '_never get caught in your own lies. You have much to learn, young one._'

"Well... it wasn't here," the youngling said, sounding a little confused. Dooku folded his hands inside the sleeves of his robes and nudging the boy around another corner. His companion obeyed without fuss, not even seeming to realise that they'd changed directions.

"Where was it, then?" Dooku prompted him. He didn't think he'd encountered such an interesting youngling for a good while. That morning he had looked up from his morning katas when he had felt a blazing presence in the Force. He could think of no other person that it could have been other than Master Yoda and had slowed his katas before halting so he could greet the Senior Consulate Master with appropriate respect. Imagine his surprise when it had been not Master Yoda or Windu or _any other Master_, but a snip of human boy with eyes made huge by wonder.

To think that the pleasant chatter filling the silence was being spoken by a child who shone like a firestorm among sparks in the Force; to think that Dooku had judged him as introverted. Most Temple younglings were, but it seemed he had found _the_ exception to the rule.

"Tatooine, of course," the youngling said simply.

"Tatooine?" Dooku echoed. "Force's Sight, what were you doing on Tatooine of all places?"

"I was born there, I think," the pale eyes were smiling as much as the generous mouth was. "Master Jinn told me where you were born, too. You're from Serry-no, right?"

"Serenno," the Jedi corrected, his amusement giving way to bafflement. What _was_ this boy on about now? Dooku shrugged internally, deciding to take it in stride. He could question Qui-Gon about this later; his former Padawan seemed rather acquainted with this child.

"You used to be Master Jinn's teacher, right?" the boy said now.

"Yes, he was my most talented protégé," Dooku answered. "And I suppose you are his?" It would not do to refer to the boy as one of his old apprentice's various charity cases; Qui-Gon always did have a soft spot for the underdogs.

"Uh... my name is Anakin Skywalker," the youngling answered hopefully. It was quite obvious he had no idea what the question addressed to him had really meant.

"An unusual name," Dooku commented, making another turn, now with intent to make his way to one of the more unused practice rooms so that he might judge Anakin's abilities for himself. "Do you know any lightsabre velocities? I believe your class should have finished covering the basic ones a month ago."

"My class?" Anakin echoed thoughtfully. A moment later, the confusion cleared from his expression and he let out a rueful laugh. "Master Dooku, I'm not from the Temple," he said quietly. "Qui-Gon found me on Tatooine, but the Council – I'm too old."

Dooku sighed irritably – the Council again. This boy shone like a nova in the Force – surely they could bend the rules this one time? '_Stubborn_.' "Qui-Gon is meeting with the Council at this very moment; I am sure he will plead you case further. '_And if _he _does not, then _I _will._'

It was another sign of the debilitating state of affairs within the Jedi Order if even its High Council, supposedly the eldest in experience and wisdom, could be so wasteful as to cast out a youngling like Skywalker, no matter his age. '_He may be old enough to sound set in his ways, but if one allows gradual change, then it will not be too difficult to alter his perception until he has been trained to our own way of thinking. Lazy, that's what they are. Slothful, wasteful..._' Dooku sighed, releasing his frustration to the Force.

"When was the last time you ate, Anakin?" the Jedi asked calmly in response to a complaining gurgle from his companion's abdominal region. '_What is Qui-Gon thinking?_' Dooku wondered, '_is the debriefing so urgent that Obi-Wan could not spare a few minutes to feed the child?_' Now that he was aware of it, he could feel Anakin's hunger – one that had the feel of being suppressed over a long period of time. Doing an abrupt turn, he walked back to the last fork in the hallway, waiting for Anakin to catch up before stepping into the turbolift.

"Last night, I think," the boy answered vaguely. "And it wasn't Master Jinn's fault!" he said hurriedly, as if sensing Dooku's disapproval. "It's mine – I kind of had an... an accident with the thermal unit."

"You had an accident," Dooku repeated wearily, now keying in the initiation sequence to his quarters.

"Well... it was more that I activated the fry-wall and torched a bag of flour...?"

"Never mind – I am quite certain I do not want to know. Would you prefer nerf or shaak?"

"I've never tried either; you choose," Anakin decided, "We only ever had bantha back on Tatooine."

"_Bantha_?" Dooku didn't know whether to laugh or ask if Anakin was joking. "I wouldn't feed one of those filthy animals to a nexu."

Anakin shrugged. "I thought it tasted okay," he said. "Mom's a good cook."

"Of course. Come in," Dooku added as the door slid open with a muted hiss.

Anakin entered first and his mouth fell open. He didn't know quite what he'd expected, but the tasteful decoration and comfortable-looking cushions and window seats were not quite what he had in mind. "Wow!" Not at all like Qui-Gon's scruffy couch and generally austere theme.

"I shall assume that is merely an inarticulate compliment and treat it as such," the silver-haired Jedi Master's tone was wry, but Anakin could tell he was pleased. "Nerf stew it is," he called as he disappeared through another door. "Come; you can help set the table."

A short while later, Dooku spooned several ladles-full of the stew into Anakin's bowl and watched with something akin to awe as the boy inhaled the food. His amusement turned to disapproval, however, as he watched Anakin lick both sides of the spoon, clearly enjoying the food perhaps a _little_ too much. "Anakin, you are welcome to second helpings; do _not_, however, repeat that disgusting act within my presence or out of it."

Smiling sheepishly, Anakin went to get another bowl, but stopped short as an expression of profound horror crossed his young features. Dooku raised a brow in question as Anakin turned back to him. "Yes?"

"Master Jinn!" Anakin moaned in dismay, running to the sink and dumping his utensils there before darting back to the chair and retrieving his poncho. "I'm _so_ sorry, Master Dooku, but I promised him about staying in his quarters but I was so _bored_ and –"

"If this is your idea of a plausible excuse not to do the dishes, I'm not accepting it," Dooku said, keeping a straight face. It took Anakin several more moments to realise the Jedi was joking.

"I don't – oh, no!"

Dooku made a questioning sound in his throat.

"It's not Master Jinn I have to worry about – oh, Obi-Wan is going to _kill _me! Thanks for the stew, Master Dooku, it was nice talking to you – _oof_!"

Anakin's flight was halted rudely by the person who had just initiated the door's opening sequence from the hall outside. "Obi-Wan!"

"So _this _is where you've been hiding, you little heathen," the Padawan scolded him, holding the boy at armslength and inspecting him for any signs of damage. Satisfied, Obi-Wan pushed Anakin back into Dooku's quarters as a chuckling Qui-Gon entered after them. "Good evening, Master."

"I'm afraid we began without you," Dooku apologised politely, "perhaps you will join us now?"

"It would give us no greater pleasure," Qui-Gon smiled. "I'm pleased to see Anakin has been in good company while missing, at the very least." The boy in question cringed; that was probably as close a rebuke as Qui-Gon would give him in front of Dooku, and he supposed he should be grateful for that.

A short while later, the bowls had been scraped clean and the table cleared. Obi-Wan was attempting to teach Anakin how to play holo-chess. The Padawan and the boy were bent over a small set, and Anakin would periodically shake his head in a positive or negative gesture while Obi-Wan's supplementary movements were limited to throwing his arms into the air or rolling his eyes. Dooku and Qui-Gon watched them for a while before conversation engaged them.

"It was good of you to look after him," Qui-Gon said softly, "he is a kind, well-meaning boy, but –"

"Still a boy," Dooku murmured. He looked at his former Padawan sharply. "If I were honest with you, Qui-Gon, I had other hopes in mind for your young charge." Dooku _felt_ the younger man hold in a flinch, and saw him set his jaw. "No, no – clear those suspicious thoughts from that mind of yours, Qui-Gon, I merely wish to help." Dooku paused briefly to gauge Qui-Gon's reaction, and saw most of the tension leave his companion's body. Encouraged, Dooku continued to speak heatedly, though he was careful to keep his voice audible only to his one-time apprentice. "Surely you have felt his vast potential in the Force?"

"Indeed I have," Qui-Gon said wryly, "from the very first moment I laid eyes on him."

"On Tatooine, I presume."

There was a short silence broken only by a shout of indignation coming from Obi-Wan and Anakin's corner; both Jedi Masters swivelled around in alarm only to catch sight of a smug-looking Obi-Wan and red-faced Anakin. Seeing that no harm was done, Dooku's attempt to reinstigate the conversation was nevertheless foiled by a shrill cry from the nine-year-old. "You cheated!" the boy accused, pointing angrily at his still-smirking opponent.

"I most certainly did not," Obi-Wan denied calmly. "This is how holo-chess is played, youngling."

"But –"

"Page four, paragraph two in the game manual says so," the Padawan actually grinned before pulling up a copy of the instruction booklet in question. Anakin leaned forward to squint at the small print before it was snatched away and Obi-Wan grinned again, folding his arms behind his head. "See? Told you," he said almost gleefully.

Dooku shook his head, covering his smile with a hand, and leaning closer to Qui-Gon. "And _this _is our infamous Sith-killer? May the Force help us all."

Qui-Gon smiled very slightly before sighing and picking up their conversation from where they had left off. "How much has Anakin told you about his past?"

Dooku sobered instantly. "Not much, I'm afraid. I initially thought he was a Temple youngling with an unhealthy habit of lying or simply an extremely active imagination. Nevertheless, his link to the Force – he is bonded to it, Qui-Gon, in a way I never thought possible until I first spotted that youngling half-hiding behind the durasteel doors this morning."

"I did sense some surprise from you," Qui-Gon admitted. "I had considered you may have felt his presence."

"'May have felt' it – Qui-Gon, the boy's potential is as bright as it is unfathomable!" Dooku cast Qui-Gon a shrewd look, "and I believe that is why you pleaded his case to the Council, and also why it was rejected."

"Your observation is most astute, Master," Qui-Gon returned dryly.

"And _you_ should learn to curb your tongue, my old Padawan," Dooku glanced over at Obi-Wan and Anakin, who were now arguing fiercely about the merits of sabaac over holo-chess. "It would not reflect well on either of us should _your_ insolence rub off on the boy."

"I am afraid it is a little too late," Qui-Gon said mildly. His eyes flicked briefly to the arguing duo as well before his gaze returned to Dooku's face. "The Council was particularly firm on this matter; I doubt they would move if a rampaging reek decided to help them along."

'_That could be arranged,_' Dooku thought caustically, but kept that particular fantasy to himself. "I do not think so," Suddenly seized with a reckless urge that had not controlled his actions since years long gone by, Dooku inhaled deeply. "I wish to train the boy."

The silence next to him reeked of shock. "I beg your pardon?"

"I wish to train the boy," Dooku repeated, a little impatience filtering into his tone. "I know of several other Masters who would agree with me. A youngling of such immense strength should remain amongst the Jedi so that his considerable potential could be reached, or at least assisted, and he himself given the proper direction. If eleven (thirteen, counting you and yours truly) Masters petition for the boy to be trained, he should at the very least be given more consideration."

Qui-Gon relaxed; whether in relief or by forced calm, the reason was hidden behind his shields. "I appreciate your offer to train him, but it is unnecessary," he said. "I have already informed the Council of my own intention to teach him, and they have informed me he is to stay in the Temple under my care, provided it does not interfere with my duties as Master. This rather unprecedented event has given me hope."

"Yes, they have agreed to let him stay, but that is not much progress," Dooku observed. "How old did you say the boy was? How long do they propose we must wait?"

"It does not matter now – if I should speak my mind as freely as I wish, it may very well work against me, as it has in the past. Patience is our only option now."

"The very fact that we have only one option says it all," Dooku said sourly. He was more than a little disappointed, but could not help feeling some relief. Qui-Gon had not bowed to the Council this time – he was still fighting their decision, and Dooku would help him. "But you seem to have forgotten that you already have a Padawan," he added. "Surely that contributes to the Council's arguments that Anakin should not be trained?"

"Obi-Wan is to be knighted," Qui-Gon did not smile, but Dooku could feel his pride. Nevertheless, the silver-haired Jedi could not help but tease a little:

"He is ready for Knighthood, you say? I submit that he be tested for maturity first – he was squabbling with Anakin like a Hutt-babe over a morsel."

The sting did not land, however, as Qui-Gon brushed it aside. "His diplomacy is second to few, and Anakin is..."

Dooku shook his head, and watched as the youngling in question captured one of Obi-Wan's pieces before whooping and punching the unruffled Jedi Padawan triumphantly on the arm. "Gotcha that time!"

Obi-Wan merely arched a brow at him, moved a piece and said, very clearly:

"Checkmate."

"Huh?"

"I think it is time for us to depart," Qui-Gon said quickly before Anakin could start consulting the manual for the legality of such a move. "Master, I thank you for the scrumptious dinner."

"I thank _you_ for washing the dishes," Dooku replied, his smile wry. "And I trust we may continue our discussion at a later date?"

"That would be much preferred, thank you." Qui-Gon got up and began herding his charges (now bickering in spite of all efforts to prevent them doing so) towards the door. "Thank you again, Master."

Dooku replied in kind, and the door closed with a soft sigh.

* * *

_I guess I don't have to be afraid any more._

_It's not so cold – you can't see the stars from Coruscant like you can from Tatooine, and you can't feel them like you can in space, but it's warm here, in the temple._

_I like it. Master Yoda can be a little scary, but Master Dooku is wizard, even if he can be a bit snooty at times. He uses big words like Padmé and the Chancellor do..._

_I still don't know if I'll be a Jedi, but I'm staying with Master Jinn. Padawan Kenobi got Knighted last night, so he's going to move out. He says I can have his room, so long as I didn't burn it own. I said I'd try not to, but I don't think be believed me._

_Are you listening to me, father?_

_I wonder how Mom is doing. Is she going to finish Threepio? I hope so... he's more human than most of the scum in Mos Espa – he'll help her. You will too, won't you, father?_

_And if you can't help her_

_(which is stupid, 'cause I know you can)_

_then you'll tell me_

_(like you always do)_

_so I can? I'll go home to Mom if she needs me._

_You know I will._

_Master Jinn would understand; I did tell you he was kind._

_Padawan – _knight_ Kenobi isn't so bad, either. It turns out he can laugh: who would have thought?_

_(Not me)_

_But I like it when he smiles at me – he cares, but you don't notice it straight away._

_He must get it from Master Jinn._

_Are you listening to me, father?..._

Easing out of the pleasant daze he had fallen into, Anakin savoured the sweet rush of warmth pulsing comfortably in his blood. His father was comforting, as always, and kind to him – familiar in this foreign place.

Anakin's eyes opened and he looked wistfully out the window from which he had dozed at, but the skies were disappointingly blank. Mom always told him that father was in the stars, and Anakin had vowed to find him someday. In the meantime, however, he would speak to his father in his mind; a pity stars were not visible to the City-Planet. How could people stand being cut from starsong?

Feeling a faint tremor resonating through his surroundings, Anakin blinked, confused for a moment before recognising the distress as what had interrupted his conversation. He sighed, but could not muster any annoyance at the source of the disturbance.

Obi-Wan was having nightmares again.

Feeling a sudden chill as the warmth dissipated abruptly, Anakin wrapped his new robe around his thin sleepwear before making his way to Obi-Wan's door. He paused then, hesitating. He was not even supposed to be awake; the lights had been extinguished a good two standard hours ago. A third wave of anguish decided him, and the youngling slipped into Obi-Wan's room, all the time reflecting on what a deep sleeper Qui-Gon surely was, not to hear his former apprentice's nightmares.

* * *

_Here smiles the nightmare; the gleam in his eye, the blood-night patterns upon his barbaric face – the ring of horns that crown the hairless head._

_Darkness yawns, and Obi-Wan recoils in fear; his hands shake visibly as he draws his sabre, but the familiar sight of the cool blue sooths him, and quiets his racing heart._

_And then battle is joined _

(here the blades of summer sky, of forest-heart, of ill-spilt blood)

_and he is frightened (though Jedi do not fear) and driven near-mad by the roaring and pulsing in his ears._

_With desperation he scrabbles for the Light, feels it shy away – reaches again, is thwarted. _

_He doesn't want to die._

Don't want to die...

_Surely Qui-Gon would triumph over the Sith as he always does, but Obi-Wan frets all the same, worrying desperately_

_(What you do best, Padawan)_

_and wondering _what will happen when I'm not here to watch you, Master?

_And then his Master reaches out with ghostly fingers and strokes away Obi-Wan's worries, and Obi-Wan releases a little sigh and opens himself to the Force._

Anakin started back, ripping himself from the dream. The memory was powerful; he had not expected to be drawn in so quickly. He felt suddenly sympathetic to the strained expression Obi-Wan wore as he battled with experiences gone and by. The Padawan – now Knight – had always tried to appear above himself, to cultivate calm, but hiding behind that façade lurked humanity – fear, fear of loss, as Yoda had said. Perhaps they were not so different after all...

The boy stood quickly and ran from Obi-Wan's room, his mouth set in a determined line. The newly-Knighted Jedi would likely dislike him all the more for it later, but for now, Master Jinn would know what to do.

After knocking urgently for several moments, he slipped in when no answer was forthcoming and made out the Jedi Master's dim form curled up on a bed too small for him. Frowning a little at that, Anakin reached out and shook the sleeping Qui-Gon, gently at first before growing more persistent when it was evident it would take more to wake him. "Master Jinn!" he hissed urgently as fear skittered at the edges of his consciousness – was Obi-Wan's dream getting worse? "Master Jinn, wake up!"

To his surprise, Qui-Gon went from sleeping quietly to sitting up in bed and swinging his long legs to the floor within the space of two heartbeats. "Ani?" the grey-haired Master inquired, rubbing sleep from his eyes, "what's the matter?"

"It's Obi-Wan, sir – he's having nightmares," Anakin explained, tugging Qui-Gon to his feet. "Can you help him?"

He looked up at Master Jinn, and Qui-Gon had a gentle, sad smile on his face as they entered Obi-Wan's room. "I can try," the Jedi said after a moment, "but I think I know what he dreams of. If it is as I suspect, then it would be kinder for him to fight his demons and banish them forever... if this continues to occur, however, I will consider sending him to one of the mind-healers."

Anakin nodded silently and hesitated before scrambling onto the bed and settling himself comfortably next to Obi-Wan. "Mom always made me feel better when I had bad dreams," he said to a quietly amused Qui-Gon, who had pulled up a chair. "She'd come in, and hold my hand and stroke my hair, and they'd go away."

"I don't see you doing that to Obi-Wan, though," Qui-Gon observed dryly.

Anakin made a face, curling up in the contorted arch of the unnaturally still Jedi's body. "I'm not going to hold _his_ hand," he said, indignant. "Coming in should be enough." He pulled the corner of Obi-Wan's blanket tight around himself, snuggling into the bed before falling asleep within moments.

Qui-Gon shook his head, smiling slightly, and sank into meditation for what promised to be a long night's vigil.

In sleep, however, Anakin's mind reached out to twine with Obi-Wan's, and he dreamt.

* * *

Jedi Padawan Anakin Skywalker had never before faced such an opponent; the Zabrak was immersed deeply in darkness, driven almost purely by the power of anger and hatred. There would be no negotiation; no talk, no compromise. 

Anakin knew that there was nothing that would satisfy their enemy save the death of the Padawan and his Master.

Qui-Gon Jinn was one of the most accomplished sabre wielders in the Order, but Anakin could see the strain of the combat on the older Jedi's ageing body. Desperate to aid his Master, the Padawan opened himself to every aspect of the Unifying Force and utilising it to enhance his own strikes and parries. Lessons he had believed forgotten rose up in his mind and various improvisation techniques made themselves known as Anakin used his speed and youth to the best advantage he could.

As the battle raged on, however, the Padawan could not seem to dismiss the growing fear that they might not emerge victorious. Such negative thoughts cost Anakin, inducing faint falters in balance or concentration. Their fierce opponent seized every available opportunity to land a blow – a kick to the ribs that he could not have dodged; a nasty burn to the leg where Anakin had not been fast enough; a loss of footing from an insistent Force push.

On and on they fought, Qui-Gon pressing harder and harder, eventually casting behind exhaustion in favour of the Force and its grace and giving more and more ground.

_It is the way of the Jedi to be the slender tree that gives and bends in the storm._

Anakin mouthed the words to himself even as he strengthened his defence. In spite of the fact that four and not three lightsabre blades flashed in the muted light, it was obvious to any, observer or participant, whom the real combatants were. The Padawan's only desire was to lend aid to his Master; defeat of a Sith Lord was well beyond his grasp.

As Qui-Gon's green sabre sliced through one end of the sabre-staff's long handle, Anakin's feet were knocked out from beneath him by a sharp jerk before a Force-shove of immense power sent him flying backwards, his lightsabre spearing the wall several metres away. With the wind knocked out of him, his vision blacked temporarily as he hit the durasteel floor with full force. The Padawan coughed, abused lungs protesting, as he tried desperately to control the pain.

After several agonising moments, he managed to pull himself to his knees. Through white lines continued to swim hazily across his vision, he was relieved to see Qui-Gon yet holding his own against the Sith. To his dismay, however, Anakin realised that the duelling pair were moving farther and farther away from him.

Seeing the timed series of red security lasers that activated and deactivated at precise intervals, Anakin realised that the Jedi Master and the Sith Lord were making their way to the core-reactor. The Force seemed to scream at him to rise to his feet, and quickly, before he got left behind. It carried him swiftly across the walkway and the burning in his muscles seceded from his mind only to be replaced by a dull, throbbing dread.

Anakin fought desperately against his emotions, knowing without any shadow of doubt that if he let them overcome him now, there would be no way he could help Qui-Gon.

_Keep your mind in the here and the now where it belongs,_ Qui-Gon's much-spoken advice hissed to the surface of his apprentice's mind. _Trust in the Force, Padawan._

It was surprisingly easy.

_...there is _

_(serenity)_

_no death..._

_(no pain)_

_but the Force._

He did not remember when his lightsabre tore through the control panel, nor did he remember bolting through the first entryway barely milliseconds after the lasers deactivated with a hiss. Only after feeling the searing heat of the reactor core on his skin did he halt abruptly a little behind and to the side of his Master, whose expression spoke of pained surprise.

Having frozen in the grip of whatever vision his unseeing eyes witnessed, Qui-Gon was vulnerable and Anakin only just realising his mistake in not stopping closer to his Master, the heat-shock be damned.

The Zabrak saw his opening and lunged, his yellow eyes crazed as his mouth opened in a victorious roar.

Something inside Anakin snapped and he ran forward with every ounce of strength he possessed; his lightsabre flew through the air and distracted the Sith enough that when Anakin flew forward, his Master's sabre summoned from Qui-Gon's unresisting hand. A broad slash had the two halves of the surprised Dark Lord of the Sith tumbling down the reactor shaft.

Anakin did not watch as the Sith's body was incinerated; rather, he returned to his master's side. Qui-Gon's gaze held surprised confusion, and he looked dazedly around as if not quite believing he was still alive.

"Obi-Wan?"

Anakin frowned. No, that was not his name...?

"Obi-Wan, wake up."

Anakin fell deeper into slumber.

* * *

"Mmmm? Master?" With much effort, Obi-Wan endeavoured to crack one eye open before opening the other in surprise as he glimpsed the chronometer hanging on the wall. "What are you _doing_ in here, and at such an inconvenient hour?"

"You might want to ask our little friend here," Qui-Gon gestured at a tightly curled ball of white nightshirt and what may have been recognisable as a boy if one only tilted their head to the side and squinted. "He came to me not two hours ago, claiming you needed help."

Obi-Wan ignored the older Jedi's explanation as his eyes fell upon the Anakin-ball. "I suppose _that _would be the reason that I cannot feel my legs?"

"Indeed, and for the peace you feel," Qui-Gon smiled fondly at Anakin's huddled form before his brows knitted and he knelt to feel the youngling's forehead. "He's sweating, and his distress levels are quite high." Qui-Gon stroked the sweat-dampened hair from the small face, his expression inscrutable as he looked at his former apprentice. "It seems nightmares are catching tonight."

Obi-Wan, not knowing what to make of that cryptic remark, stayed silent – that is, until Qui-Gon stood again and made as if to leave the room. "Wait – what am I supposed to do with this – him? He's on _my_ bed!"

"You are twenty and five years, Obi-Wan, not two and five. Do with him what you will." The door closed with an abrupt _click_, and Obi-Wan could hear the Jedi Master's chuckles through it.

Grumbling, Obi-Wan pulled and heaved until Anakin was lying more comfortably under the sheets before pulling the covers up around them both. Nevertheless, he took care to stay as far from the sleeping youngling as the small bed would permit. Sleep was about to claim him when Anakin kicked out abruptly, catching the Knight in the lower stomach.

Wheezing and embarrassed at being put in pain in such a derogatory way, Obi-Wan could only sigh.

'_Thank the Force I'm moving out tomorrow._'

* * *

**A/N: Feedback is appreciated. Thanks for reading!

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